a new enemy
by clairebare
Summary: patrick is kidnapped. dark and violent. starting as a T but may be M later.
1. Chapter 1

All morning, Lisbon and Cho exchange looks. Lisbon makes phone calls that go to voice mail.

Kim wanders the bullpen braying her displeasure at Jane's lateness.

Speak to the management, lady, Lisbon thinks. Send the soup back. File a form FB-27-Z with headquarters. Write a letter to The New York Times. That should work.

Around noon, Cho leans over Lisbon's desk. "I'm gonna swing by the Airstream."

Lisbon nods. "I'll have Van Pelt ping his cellphone."

Cho looks at her questioningly.

"No need to get the feebs all worked up until we're sure there's a problem."

Cho grabs his keys and jacket and leaves.

Kim places herself in front of Lisbon's desk and arches an eyebrow.

Lisbon keeps it light, "I have no idea. He could be anywhere."

tmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmt

Cho picks the lock of the Airstream. He's always had the skill but observing Jane has improved his technique.

The place is trashed. All the cabinets are open. The cups and saucers are smashed. The bathroom and kitchen taps are wide open. The electric burners are turned on high.

Tea bags are scattered over the burners. The scent of burnt tea fills the air.

The empty kettle is on the stove. It glows red hot.

A large knife is embedded in the mattress. Feathers and foam float through the air.

A pair of shears lies atop a pile of what used to be a closetful of suits.

Cho turns off the stove and the taps and calls Lisbon.

tmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmt

Patrick comes to. He blinks his eyes. He's lying on a rickety bed.

His head is killing him. Feels like a combination of drugs and blows to the head. He knows because he's had experience with both.

Not much in the room. The narrow bed. A wreck of a sofa. A goose neck floor lamp. A small window set high on the wall. A basement room. No rug, no phone. No sound.

From the look of the light filtering through the window, it's almost sundown. Last thing he remembers is drinking a cup of tea in his trailer this morning. So he's likely been here twelve hours.

The drugs must still be in his system, he can't move. His wrists and ankles hurt. He realizes he's bound with plastic ties to the headboard and foot of the bed.

Either it's getting dark fast or the drugs are overtaking him.

tmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmt

Amazing how quickly the FBI can mobilize.

As soon as Lisbon and Cho sound the alarm, Abbott picks up the phone, goes woof-woof-woof and boots hit the ground and helicopters whirl all over the country.

The Bureau in Southern California is in Jane's Malibu house in twelve minutes.

FBI agents in Sacramento storm the old CBI headquarters, now occupied by an ad agency, and drive five hundred people with cool haircuts and quirky senses of humor out into the parking lot.

Every felon that Jane ever sent away is grilled and then raked over the coals for good measure.

Meanwhile, the Venezuelan Police Department is busy rounding up everyone in Venezuela.

The agents of the Bureau in Brooklyn are out scaring the crap out of hot dog vendors just to keep their hands in.

Cho and Lisbon visit the few places they can think of that Jane might go in Austin. A tea shop, three diners, and a drycleaner. They even check his old detention cell.

They sit in Lisbon's car. She rests her forehead on the steering wheel. "You should get some rest, boss. We both should." Cho says. "There's nothing more we're going to learn tonight."

tmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmt

A door creaks open. Jane wakes at the noise. Cranes his neck but can't see who's behind him.

A large heavy piece of paper is lowered in front of him. A sentence is typed in the center of the page. "There's a reason for what's coming next. Are you smart enough to figure it out?"

He hears the sound of something, a garbage bag maybe, being hefted behind him.

Ice. Ice cubes. Hundreds of them cascade down on him. Another bag. Again and again until he's buried.

So cold it burns.


	2. Chapter 2

Patrick manages to shake his head enough to dislodge the ice over his face. His breathing accelerates. His pulse races. He's shivering so hard, it feels like his bones are about to shatter.

This is the first stage of freezing, he thinks. Hypothermia. It's agony but it will soon get worse.

Whoever did this is gone.

He looks around the room. Dark except for a circle of light where the gooseneck lamp is pointed at the ceiling.

Painted across the cracked plaster is the word "Bastard."

His limbs grow numb. He knows he's approaching severe hypothermia.

His muscles are paralyzed. His lips are frozen. He's terribly cold but no longer shivering. That's not good.

He shouldn't sleep but he has to. So cold.

"Bastard," he thinks as he blacks out. What does that mean?

tmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmt

Teresa wakes in a panic.

What if Jane is dead? He could be dead.

She runs to the bathroom and pukes. Dry heaves. She hasn't eaten since this morning.

She looks at her clock. 3am.

tmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmt

The next day proves that yesterday, the FBI had not even begun to investigate the disappearance of Patrick Jane.

The Visualize building is on lockdown. The senior FBI agent on site is considering having sharpshooters take out that spooky eye on the roof.

Sean Barlow has been compelled to conduct a séance with Kristina Frye to gather information.

All traveling carnivals on U.S. territory have been ordered to stay in one place.

Shirali Arlov, with a canvas sack over his head, is sitting in the hold of an FBI plane on its way from Moscow to Austin.

Sean Barlow bangs on the two-way mirror of the room he's in with Kristina. He accuses the FBI agents of inhuman cruelty. Having observed her themselves, they let him go.

Cho and Lisbon spend the morning questioning Pete and Sam who've been flown in first class to Austin. Neither sheds any light on Patrick's disappearance.

Lisbon and Cho go back to the bullpen. Lisbon throws herself on Jane's couch.

Kim throws her a disapproving look.

Cho bends down near the couch. "Whoever has him doesn't want to kill him, boss. We would have found him already."

tmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmt

Patrick wakes.

He's wrapped in a down comforter. He's dry and warm.

No evidence of ice in the room.

He smells like soap and shampoo.

He's wearing a shirt and a three-piece suit. He doesn't recognize it as one of his old suits.

There's a tray table next to his bed. On it, a thermos bottle, a teacup and saucer, several tea bags and a perfect club sandwich.

The plastic ties on his wrists have been loosened just enough so he can make a cup of tea and eat the sandwich.

This is one conflicted kidnapper, Patrick thinks as he pours another cup of tea.

Then he notices the gift box across the room. Large, square, white with a big silver bow.

He dabs his mouth with his napkin.

Written on it are the words, "Wish."

"Wish?" Patrick studies it.

He couldn't make any sense of ice and "Bastard."

Now a gift box and "Wish."

Hmm. I wished for something and what's in the box is what I wished for. Is that it?

He's not thinking very well. His brain is full of cotton balls.

There was something in the tea.


	3. Chapter 3

The room is dark when Patrick wakes.

The only light comes from the gooseneck lamp pointed at the gift box.

It's open and empty.

There's a crackling sound and agony shoots through his chest.

A cattle prod.

It stops almost instantly.

Then again. And again.

This time for a full ten seconds.

Then a jolt. A jolt and a half. A jolt and three-quarters.

Then fifteen seconds. Then a full minute.

He tries to control his panic by timing the length of the pain.

One-mississippi. Two-mississippi. Three-mississippi.

Fade to black.

tmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmt

Lisbon and Cho bring in Dr. Sonia Kidd for questioning. Lisbon mentions that the college professor was attracted to Jane. He had fallen back on the wedding band excuse.

Lisbon theorizes that Dr. Kidd read the subsequent press and was angry that Jane lied to her.

After a few minutes, they learn that she's married a fellow professor and was out of the country on her honeymoon at the time of Jane's disappearance.

Wylie pursues the scorned woman theory. Inquiries as to the whereabouts of Susan Darcy place her in a locked mental facility for the past several years.

tmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmt

Almost three days into Patrick Jane's disappearance, Cho is losing heart.

He doesn't show it. That's his specialty.

But it takes all his strength to prop up Lisbon who's sinking into depression.

It's 11pm. They walk out together to the parking lot.

"You know I love him."

Cho realizes how enormous this is. He puts his hand on her shoulder.

"Loved him," she says.

Tmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmt

Jane opens his eyes.

The walls are covered with calendar sheets. Days, weeks, months.

Days, weeks, months.

He turns it over in his brain. What is that supposed to mean?

The creak of the door. Someone's behind him.

A piece of tape is laid across his eyes.

Hands trace the contours of his body. First over his clothes. Then they find their way underneath.

"Hey. Whoever you are. This isn't polite."

He struggles but the plastic ties don't give.

"Have you ever heard the phrase 'no means no?'"

The hands are intimate. Insistent.

They stroke and tease him.

His body starts to betray him.

He moans, angry at himself.

He's on the verge of losing control.

Full stop.

The door creaks and he's alone.

tmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmtmt

He's lost track of how many times he's been tormented not quite to the point of ecstasy.

This must be the twelfth time.

He's tries to use bio-feedback to control his body. To keep his pride. And possibly his sanity.

To distract himself, he thinks about being drowned in ice and the word on the ceiling, "Bastard."

Then the cattle prod and the word on the napkin, "Wish"

And now, the calendars and this strange methodical sexual tease.

"I think I'd like to solve the puzzle now," he pants.

The hands withdraw.

"First answer, cold bastard."

"Second, I wish I had a cattle prod."

"And my personal favorite, a twelve year jerk-off."

"Do you want to talk about it, Lisbon?"


	4. Chapter 4

"Took you long enough to figure it out, Jane." Teresa rips the tape off Jane's eyes and sits on the sofa across from the bed. "I was running out of clues."

"Yeah, well, no matter where the clues led it seemed impossible that the person torturing me for the past few days would be my best friend." His shattered blue-green eyes fill with tears.

He's embarrassed at his state of undress. Teresa darts forward and briskly straightens his clothes.

"Just so you know, you're everything I thought you'd be, Jane."

She arranges a curl on his forehead. "Your body's exquisite. In perfect proportion. No hideous tattoos. No disfiguring birthmarks. No signs of venereal disease. No hermaphroditic tendencies. No indicators of sexual reassignment surgery. You respond well to a wide range of stimuli."

Her eyes get red. "There's absolutely nothing wrong with you."

She's hoarse. "That was a last ditch effort to find some…any reason why you've pushed me away the way you have."

He speaks softly. "I would have been glad to fill out a questionnaire if you'd asked me."

She's not listening. She gets up and paces.

"You know when it all became clear to me, Jane?" She stands awkwardly in front of him like a slightly broken doll.

"When you showed me and Kim the shirts for your date."

She swallows hard. "I saw that I now shared my special relationship with Patrick Jane with another repressed, middle-aged woman.

"I did have the distinction of being senior disapproving but titillated woman. The one who could show her just how you like your women's eyes to roll."

"If this is about Kim—"

"It's not about Kim, you son of a bitch!" She shrieks.

She toes off her boots. She peels off her jacket leaving it inside out.

"Look at me, Jane. What are my feelings for you?"

"Well we've been friends for-"

"The truth, Jane. The truth. You can say it. It's all over anyway. After what I've done to you over the past few days. After what I will…may do to you. Just tell it."

He watches her as she pulls off her socks.

"You love me, Teresa."

She points at him. "Yes, thank you, Jane. And for how long?"

"Eleven…no twelve years."

She unbuttons her blouse. There is no tease. She's disrobing.

She tosses the blouse on the sofa.

"And how long have you known that I love you, Jane?"

He avoids looking at her. "Twelve years."

She removes her bra and unzips her pants.

"And how many of these twelve years have you loved me?"

He closes his eyes tight. One tear rolls down the side of his face.

"Patrick?" She steps out of her crumpled pants and, wearing only panties, stands arms crossed in front of him.

"I don't know," he finally says.

"Good. The truth again. Thank you, Jane."

She slips off her panties. "So, what do you think?"

"You're beautiful, Teresa." His voice cracks.

"Pretty good, right?" She turns around. She walks out of sight and returns with her phone. Brings up a photo.

"This is me the year you joined CBI. As you can see, my boobs were perkier. My ass was higher. My waist was smaller. And my neck wasn't crinkly at all."

"Lisbon, why are you-"

"If you had told me you would never love me back then, I would have had a better body to attract someone else with. Not to mention my fertility which is like zero now."

She sits down naked on the sofa.

"But instead, for twelve years, you put me on hold like a phone call. You didn't want to tell me yes and you didn't want to tell me no."

Jane sighs, "It was so much more complicated than that. Red John-"

"You should have made it simple, Jane. And you know it. You're the genius. The one who can calculate the outcomes. If there were only a small chance this outcome…this pathetic charade I'm living…would be mine, you should have stepped up and paid the price."

"You should have told me that you had no interest in me. And I would have built a life with someone else by now."

He shakes his head, "But I didn't know how things-"

"You indulged yourself. You liked the idea of a white marriage."

She rakes her hands through her hair. "And you sent me mixed messages. Parents who send their children mixed messages wind up with psychotic children."

She stretches out on her side on the sofa.

"Never to be boyfriends wind up with psychotic never to be girlfriends."

"Teresa, please untie me." He struggles against the plastic ties.

"You squandered me, Patrick."

She walks over and curls beside him on the bed.

"But enough about me."


	5. Chapter 5

Lisbon lies there with her arms around Jane.

"Teresa, please, this doesn't make sense," he holds his bound wrists up to her.

"I know it hurts." She runs her fingers through his hair.

"But I did say enough about me. Let's talk about you." She pulls the coverlet over both of them.

"You're forty-six, Patrick. When you charmed that young woman into accepting a date, it made me a little queasy. And not from jealousy, I knew you were playing her. The reason is, you're too old for Krystal; you're actually too old to be out charming the ladies in general. You've crossed over into that club promoter, model agency owner cliché. The well-preserved guy on the make. The one the young beautiful people look to to pick up the drinks bill."

Jane looks surprised.

Teresa continues, "Bull's eye. I knew you hadn't realized it yet. It creeps up on all of us. But for a world class beauty like yourself, it's doubly painful. The great Peter Pan Jane is entering his twilight years. You're about to be handsome…for your age."

She kisses him. He doesn't react, just looks at her with sad eyes.

"So we've established that time is finite. Even yours." She grooms his beard with her fingers.

"So here's my question. You bombarded me with letters while you were on the run. You moved heaven and earth to bring me back into your orbit. What were you intending to do with me?"

"If I said I thought I'd wait and see what happened, would that be the wrong answer?" His voice is hoarse.

"I know what you're doing, Jane." She digs her fingers into his arm.

"What am I doing, Teresa? Trying to come up with just the right words so my newly insane old friend will let me go?" His eyes are pure fury.

"Oh, Jane is angry. What are you gonna do Jane? Give me a zero? Send me down to the principal's office. Make me feel unlovable for ten or twelve years?"

"I'm sorry I made you feel bad, Teresa. But I wish I'd had the chance to tell you how I felt before you did this."

"You don't feel that way anymore, do you?" She angles her head to meet his eyes.

She smiles. "I knew it. I knew you wouldn't beg or say nice things or try to get on my good side. I knew you'd rather die than be manipulated."

She moves her hands under his shirt. "I thought when I came to Austin, it would all come together. I wanted you to love me. I wanted you to tell me. I deserved to be told."

He flinches as she runs her hand down his chest.

"The thing that Cho said. That you were acting the way you had when you first came to the CBI. Crazy. That's what got me. I could see the whole cycle starting again on a bigger stage with more players. Willful, clever, mercurial Patrick. Two shows daily."

Her hand hovers near his belt.

"I felt like the side kick translating for the marks. 'Jane has a plan.' 'Jane's usually right.' 'Jane's got one of his hunches.'"

She slides her hand down the front of his pants. He bucks.

"I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't stand to be the little fool waiting for Jane to tell her what's what."

"Shhh. I'm not gonna hurt you, Patrick." Her hand caresses him.

Tears spring up in his eyes. He grits his teeth.

"I had to take control. For once, Patrick Jane would have to wait for Teresa Lisbon to tell him what's what. The question is, what do I do with you now?"


	6. Chapter 6

"What do I do with you now?"

Lisbon looks under the covers.

"Jesus, Jane," she says. "When you were blindfolded and didn't know who was touching you, you managed to display some interest."

"Now that you know it's me…nothing." Lisbon sits up on the side of the bed. She gives him a coy smile, "Is this bio-feedback? Are you holding out on me on purpose?"

She gently strokes the side of his face.

He refuses to make eye contact.

"Jane, if I hadn't taken you. If I hadn't done the thing with the ice and the cattle prod…do you think you would like me touching you?" She dances her fingers from his throat to his belly.

He sighs. "But you did do those things, Lisbon. You wanted control and that's what you did with it."

She slaps him hard. "So you were never attracted to me?"

He closes his eyes. She slaps him again.

"You thought I was pretty. I know you did. Why won't you tell me, Jane?"

He looks at her. His gaze is cold.

His voice is pure honey. "Of course I did, Teresa. I still do."

She exhales, relieved.

"I'm really sorry about all this. This was a terrible thing to do and I'll make it up to you. At least, it cleared the air. We can move forward together. Don't you think?" She leans in and kisses him.

She reaches under the covers and looks at him with delight.

"Well, I guess I have my answer."

She pulls back the covers and lowers her body over his.

"This is all I ever wanted." She moans.

He moves his hips along with her.

"Touch my breasts."

He tries but his wrists are tied too tightly.

She loosens the plastic ties.

He cups her breasts. Then traces the line of her hips.

She continues to rise and fall increasing the rhythm until she climaxes.

She tosses her hair and smiles.

"I guess if this is any indication, you may still have feelings for me, huh, Jane?"

His eyes dart to where their bodies are joined.

"I'm sorry but that's just bio-feedback, Teresa."

He raises her gun and places a shot directly between her eyes.

His voice cracks. "Forgive me, but I don't think there was any other way for this to end."

He catches her body as it falls and places it beside him.

His hand locates her jeans under the bed.

He pulls out her phone.

"Cho. It's Jane."


End file.
